Murder at the Mansion

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Murder at the Mansion Page 10

by Janet Finsilver


  “Yes, Kelly, how can I help you?” An unspoken sigh between each word made the question sound slow and heavy, but her professional demeanor remained in place.

  “I wanted to let you know I’m headed back to the B and B with another box . . . unless there’s something I can do to help you here.”

  “Not right now, but thanks for asking. Michael, Scott, and I have relocated the guests to Ridley House.” She paused. “Unfortunately, another piece of jewelry disappeared. I’m getting ready to question Tina again, since she cleans the rooms where things have gone missing.”

  “Stevie’s dog Jill found a bracelet, and Deputy Sheriff Stanton thinks it might be one of the stolen pieces.”

  Hensley bolted upright, no more limp shoulders. “What? That bug man is involved?”

  My shoulders tightened. “No, he’s not involved. Stevie’s dog retrieved it.” Putting in a few points for Stevie, I said, “I’m sure the owner of the piece will be very pleased and thankful.”

  Our exchange ended when Tina arrived. From the grim look on Hensley’s face, things didn’t bode well for her. The young woman’s pale, ashen face reflected her apprehension.

  I went back to the interrogation area. The detectives and Stanton were on the far side of the room questioning Stevie. I stationed myself in the chair I’d used earlier—supposedly out of earshot.

  They were asking him about his whereabouts on the days the thefts had taken place. He wasn’t on the premises, he said, but he had no one to corroborate his story as he’d worked alone and hadn’t interacted with anyone. The palms of his hands slid down his jean-covered thighs over and over. He shook his head repeatedly as they questioned him his about interactions with Mrs. Porter and the Redwood Heights staff.

  “That’s all the questions I have for now,” Detective Nelson said.

  The other two officers nodded.

  “You don’t think I stole those things, do you?” Stevie asked.

  By the cold stares of the detectives and Stanton’s frown, I’d say that was a strong possibility.

  “As I said, that’s all for now.” Detective Nelson turned away. “Don’t leave the area without checking with me.”

  Stevie passed me and our eyes met—his filled with fear. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow. I turned to follow him out and offer reassurance.

  “Ms. Jackson,” Deputy Sheriff Stanton said, calling me back. “We have a few things we’d like to ask you.”

  Reluctantly, I turned in their direction. They questioned me about my knowledge of Stevie, where he’d been working, and whether or not I’d seen him talking with any of the employees. I told them what little I knew and wished I could say more to help him.

  After they were done, I walked back through the house to get the pickup and encountered Tina walking down the hallway, tears streaming down her face, her eyes puffy. She stopped when she saw me.

  “Tina . . .”

  “I hate that woman! I know I shouldn’t say that, but I do,” she sobbed. “She thinks I’m a thief.”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll find who did it.”

  “She even asked me about the Porter woman and where I was when she was killed. It’s like she’s trying to pin that on me, too.”

  “The police will get to the bottom of it.”

  “It’s a terrible thing being suspected of something you didn’t do.”

  Tell me about it.

  She added, “And you read stories in the paper all the time about people being found innocent after spending years in jail. I read one just the other day.”

  Years in jail. Uh-oh.

  Chapter 13

  I put my hand on her forearm and gave a gentle squeeze. “Tina, they’ll find out who stole the jewelry and murdered Mrs. Porter.”

  “The question is when,” she replied. “Before I get arrested? I think Hensley’s convinced I stole the stuff, and I’m sure she’d be happy to clean up what’s been happening by putting the murder on me as well.”

  “She’s not doing the investigating. It’s not her call.” I paused. “As best you can, put your fears in a mental box, put it aside, and trust the police to work it out. Deputy Sheriff Stanton is a fair man and not one to jump to conclusions.”

  Tina took a deep breath. “Okay, Kelly. That’s good advice. Worrying won’t make any difference.”

  “Think about the cooking classes and how much you enjoy them.”

  Tina nodded and pulled a tissue from her pocket. She wiped off the black smeared mascara that had collected under her eyes from her tears. “Thanks. I better go help get the afternoon appetizers ready for Ridley House.” She gave me a grateful look and left.

  Next, I needed to talk to Stevie. I walked to his RV and knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” Stevie asked.

  “It’s me, Kelly.”

  He opened the door. His face was a mottled red. The dogs were leaning on his legs and looking up at him. No wagging tails.

  “I wanted to check on how you’re doing.”

  With a slow movement, he pushed the door open wider. “Come on in.”

  Stevie turned. He had a multicolored cloth band around his wispy gray ponytail. I walked up the steps behind him. His home on wheels had a brown couch on the opposite wall, a dining area with booth seating on my left, and a beige vinyl chair on my right. A vine in a macramé holder hung down in the corner of the eating area.

  He pointed to the chair. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some iced tea?” His voice sounded wooden and mechanical.

  “That would be nice.”

  He got a glass from a dish rack and went to the small refrigerator. He opened it and pulled out some ice and a pitcher of tea. His movements reminded me of spaceship pilots in a weightless environment—calculated, methodical, deliberate.

  His blotched face and almost catatonic demeanor worried me. What could I do to help him? I looked around the vehicle as I thought about it. I spied two dogs beds, one blue and one pink, with monogrammed names in fancy white letters. A cream-colored candle on the kitchen counter probably accounted for the faint, sweet smell of jasmine.

  He handed me the tea and sank down on the couch, slumping back into the cushions. “Tell me I’m dreaming. It’s all a nightmare. I’m going to wake up from this, and everything will be normal.” His eyes pleaded with me. “Right?”

  “Stevie, I wish I could say that was the case. I do believe there will be a time when it will all seem like a bad dream, and it’ll be over.”

  He nodded—a weary, resigned movement. He took off his gold wire-rimmed glasses, and pulled a cloth from a drawer next to him. Slowly, methodically, he wiped the round lenses. He put the glasses in his lap and rubbed his eyes and then his face.

  “The police will get it all figured out,” I said

  “The attack on my mom. The woman being murdered. All this craziness. What’s it about?”

  “I don’t know, but the Silver Sentinels are working on it as well.”

  He gave a slight smile. “Mom loves being part of that group.”

  I felt a shift in emotion from him. “They serve the community and accomplish a lot. They have a right to feel proud.”

  He straightened his back and stretched.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it,” I said.

  Soon, I hope. Very soon.

  “Thanks, Kelly. I feel a bit better.”

  “Why don’t you share that with your kids?”

  The beagles had continued to lean on him with worried looks on their faces. Stevie patted his lap and both were on it in a nanosecond, tails wagging. He hugged them one at a time and sat back.

  “Daniel told me you rescued them.”

  “Yes.” He rubbed the back of Jill’s ear, and she sank farther into his chest. “I’d been thinking about getting a dog. When a rescue group set up at a local park, I decided to stroll through the pens.”

  I sipped my tea and was relieved to see Stevie’s face regain its normal color.

  “These two were t
ogether, Jill pressing against the far side of the enclosure, trembling, with Jack at her side, watchful of the milling strangers. The group wanted to adopt them out together, but Jack was very protective, and they hadn’t been successful.”

  “How did you manage to convince Jack to trust you?”

  “I sat outside their area softly talking to them for about half an hour. Jill peeked over Jack’s back. She ducked down again but looked up after another ten minutes. I decided to sing, and that did it.”

  “Sing?”

  “Yeah, ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone’ won her over, and she came to the fence and licked my hand. Jack was right beside her, watching my every move.”

  “It’s great you were so patient.”

  “I got into the pen and sat on the grass, and Jill crept into my lap. Jack stayed a few feet away. I was going through every folk song I knew to get him closer. Partway through ‘The Sounds of Silence’ Jack decided that was his song. He wasn’t ready to get in my lap, but he sat down next to me.”

  “And now you’re a family.”

  “Yes, now we’re a family. Jack sings with me now.” Stevie sang a few lines of the Simon and Garfunkel song in a soft, mellow voice. Jack tilted his head back and crooned along with him.

  We laughed, and I thought about how good the happiness felt. Stevie looked and sounded like himself again. Talking about the dogs had brought him out of his dark place. I decided to keep it going. A picture on the wall of the three of them in front of the motor home with the slogan on the side caught my eye.

  “How did they become professional sniffers?”

  He grinned. “It started out as something fun for us to do. I’d heard about it and wanted to see if I could train them. They were superstars at it. So . . . here we are. I travel up and down the coast. Michael has me on contract to do his properties, and I get jobs as I travel. My hours are flexible, and it allows me to spend time with my mom. I love it.” He looked at his watch. “Speaking of Mom, I want to get home so I’m there when she gets back.”

  I finished the last of my drink and stood. “Thanks for the tea. Time for me to go, too.”

  “Mom always says do what you can to solve a situation and then put it aside and get on with life.” Stevie looked at me. “This is a good time for me to do just that.”

  “Good advice.” And now I need to apply it to myself.

  “Stop by any time.” He opened the door and pulled keys out of his pocket. “To the truck, Jack and Jill.”

  The dogs shot out of the RV and raced to a small dusty green pickup.

  “See you later,” I said and walked back to the mansion. Tina and Stevie seemed in a better place. Now if someone could help me.

  I drove the pickup to the carriage house and retrieved the box. As I reached the Redwood Cove B & B parking lot, my cell phone rang. The number identified it as Scott.

  “Hi.” I was almost home.

  “An emergency meeting’s been called. We need you to come back to Redwood Heights now. We’re in the office.”

  “Okay. No problem. See you in a few.”

  What had happened now? I pulled into the driveway of my place and did a U turn. I parked in front of the mansion and walked in. The three policemen, Scott, Corrigan, Daniel, and Hensley were there.

  Corrigan greeted me with a quick hug. “Good to see you. Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk yet.”

  I returned the light embrace. “Good to see you, too, Michael.”

  “There’s a chair over there.” He pointed to one next to Detective Rodriguez.

  I sat and waited.

  Deputy Sheriff Stanton stood and addressed the group. “As you’re aware, the dead woman was not Sylvia Porter, an employee working for Preston Insurance. We’ve been working to find out who she was.”

  Stanton looked directly at Corrigan. “Sylvia Porter was actually Mrs. Sylvia Madison. She worked for Resorts International. She worked for you, Mr. Corrigan.”

  Chapter 14

  Stunned silence filled the room.

  Corrigan sighed, shook his head, and looked at Stanton. “I didn’t know her.”

  “I understand. I know your company is very large.” The deputy looked at his notepad. “She was employed as a spotter. What did she do exactly?”

  “That’s someone who—”

  Before Corrigan could say more, Hensley, her eyes wide, her chin jutting forward, interrupted him. “It means she was a spy! Michael, how could you? You sent her to check on me? And the staff I was responsible for? After all the years we’ve known each other?” Her voice shook with fury.

  “Margaret, you know I have an interested buyer for Redwood Heights, and it’s company policy to have places reviewed before they’re sold.”

  “But me? You doubted I was doing my job?”

  Corrigan’s lips formed a tight line. “No, I didn’t.”

  Deputy Stanton cut in. “Mr. Corrigan, you were starting to give an explanation. Go on.”

  “Her job was to be at a site, without anyone knowing who she was. Even me. There’s one administrator who handles that department, and she’s the only one who knows who those employees are.”

  “What kinds of things do they look for?”

  “They measure staff courtesy, cleanliness of the site, and following protocol, to name a few. It’s a long list. I’ll write down the name and number of her supervisor for you.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Stanton looked at me and at the manager. “Ms. Jackson and Mrs. Hensley, now you know the deceased woman’s purpose for being here and that she was a company employee, is there anything you can think of that she said or did that has a new interpretation?”

  I thought a moment, then shook my head. “No, not offhand. I’ll go back through my interactions with her and let you know if I think of anything.”

  “Mrs. Hensley?” Stanton turned to the manager.

  Would she be able to talk, considering her tightly clenched jaw?

  “It explains why she was so annoying to the staff. Testing us—seeing what our limits were.” She shot an angry glance at Corrigan. “I’m sure you’ll find everyone did well.”

  Stanton tapped his pen on his notepad. “Anything else?”

  The manager looked away. “I’ll give it some thought, too.”

  “We’re asking for alibis between eleven thirty, when she was last seen, and twelve forty-five, when guests began arriving in the lobby for a tour. The entrance to Sylvia’s room is visible from there, and no one saw anyone enter or leave. We suspect closer to eleven thirty because she hadn’t taken the nap she mentioned and the blood on her blouse had begun to dry a bit around the edges.”

  I shuddered at the details. Sylvia had wanted to rest and sip her hot beverage. Instead she was murdered.

  Deputy Sheriff Stanton looked at the other two officers. “Do you have any questions?”

  “None that I can think of at the moment,” Detective Rodriguez said.

  Detective Nelson nodded in agreement.

  Deputy Stanton glanced around the room. “Jerry Gershwin confirmed Cindy’s account of yesterday morning. Your other two live-in staff members don’t have alibis.” He slipped his notes into the front pocket of his shirt. “Okay, folks, that’s all for now.”

  I got up and started for the door. Scott caught up with me. We didn’t say anything until we were outside.

  “That was a shocker,” Scott said as we stopped next to my truck.

  “I agree with you there.”

  “Kelly, this is a difficult situation and trying for all of us. How about we take a break from it and have dinner tonight? I’ll make the long, steep, perilous hike to the grocery store.” His wide grin acknowledged the joke, as it was a short, flat walk to the market. “Then I’ll slave over the deli counter and put something together for us to have at your new place, Redwood Cove B and B.”

  A quiet night with Scott pulled at me. Maybe this was my chance to have someone help me like I’d done with Stevie and Tina. “I’d like that.�


  “Great!” Scott checked his watch. “I’ll talk to Michael about what else needs to be done and head for the store.” He turned to leave.

  “See you in a bit.” I hesitated. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  He paused on his walk back to the mansion and looked over his shoulder. “Me too.”

  I got into the truck. So much had happened, my mind was spinning. Hensley had been furious about Sylvia being a spy. She appeared surprised, but had she already known? She had a short fuse. Had it ignited and she killed Sylvia in a fit of rage?

  Or had one of the other employees had enough of Sylvia’s pushy ways? Tina didn’t have an alibi for the time of the murder. Had she been fed up enough with the woman to kill her?

  Jerry Gershwin’s alibi had checked with Cindy’s account of the day. Could someone corroborate both their alibis? They could be covering for each other. But the chef hadn’t stayed there long enough to be part of the robberies if they were connected.

  Then there was the attack on Gertie by someone about my height. I believed the hatpins connected the two incidents. The people similar in height to me included Hensley, Tina, Lily, and Robert James. Anyone else? The chef was a little on the short side, but the lighting hadn’t been great. I kept him on the list.

  Lily hadn’t had a chance to take the hatpin from Sylvia’s body because she was leading a tour group. Robert James wasn’t a guest at the time and, to the best of everyone’s knowledge, he wasn’t on site. Lots of pieces weren’t fitting together. A quiet night with Scott sounded perfect.

  I pulled into the parking lot of Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast, put the box in the shed, and entered the multipurpose room. Andy and Phil were at the counter. Andy arranged an assortment of cheese and crackers as Phil studied the labels on several bottles of wine.

  “Kelly,” Phil greeted me. “I just chose the wine to pair with our cheese for tonight. Do you recognize the label?”

 

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